The dye was cast and the reality of Phnom Penh was no longer to be denied. If we were to experience this city properly, it was going to be ugly and dirty and, in most countries, illegal. Christmas day came and we set out to see what we could. It was in the morning when we ran into the tuk-tuk driver from the the other day, who suggested we go shooting. Since both Jeff and I had heard with a bit of excitement about the high caliber opportunities in Cambodia, we readily agreed.
The shooting range is outside of the city, somewhere near the airport. On arrival, we were presented with a menu, as if we were ordering lunch, divided into two sections: handguns and machine guns. I asked a bit incredulously about shooting a rocket launcher and the guy working at the shooting range just flipped over the menu, where the B7 rocket launcher was listed, one shot: $200. This backside also held such rarities as hand grenades, $50, and an M2, all a bit too pricey and possibly too frightening for me to consider.
Jeff and I both shoot 30 rounds a piece with an AK-47, and a full clip off a double action pistol. We shot at targets, declining livestock, because Jeff's a vegetarian and even I can't see the point in shredding a chicken with thirty rounds of automatic savagery. The AK-47 was loud as hell and it felt like holding on to something living and vicious when I tried let it rip. Neither Jeff nor I let off more than three or four consecutive rounds before releasing the trigger. Any longer and the gun may have jumped from our hands and caused some serious damage.
Guns are nice, but what Christmas would be complete without visiting the Killing Fields, where less than 30 years ago, thousands of Cambodians were senselessly put to death under the idiotic regime of the Khmer Rouge. The field is beautiful and serene, the harsh sun blocked by gnarled trees, the flat land marked by dozens of large holes where corpses had recently been exhumed, with other suspected graves still unearthed. In the center of the field is a tall pagoda made of glass and filled with hundreds of skulls. There were ghosts in the air and the peace I felt resting below a tree was somber and depressing.
The tour didn’t stop; we were riding a crazy tuk-tuk hell bent on bringing us to all the terrorful and horribling destinations Phnom Penh could offer. Our next stop was at Tuol Sleng, the converted high school that acted as a processing center for prisoners sentenced to torture and death. The terrible senselessness of the Khmer Rouge becomes apparent in the names and descriptions of the 10,499 people (not including children) that were tortured and sentenced to death at this institution. For it was Khmer Rouge themselves who made up a large percentage of the executed, party cadres who for paranoid and highly questionable reasons were suspected spies or dissidents. When one KR cadre was tortured and put to death, his coerced confession usually indicted nearly everyone he knew; simple mathematics reveals the absurdity and self-destruction intrinsic to such policies.
Out of the prison, past the blind, crippled and terrifying beggars, it was now time to celebrate. Time to forget the violence, death and dust that had surrounded us all day and do the vacation thing like we know how to do it. Jeff and I gratefully settled into the plastic chairs out front of Happy Herb Pizza, located along the river, down on the southern end of the main tourist strip. We ordered two Asahis, about 80 cents a pop, and a spinach and feta pizza, extra special please!
“Special” means the chef will add one more integral ingredient to the pie, marijuana. Although the plant was made illegal in Cambodia in 1997, it is still readily available to buy and smoke, and perfectly acceptable when served in pizza form. Dope!
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